


Security

by cndrow



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, POV First Person, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:45:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5643055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cndrow/pseuds/cndrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even displaced in time, Rin's past finally catches up with her. She's convinced she must deal with this alone. </p><p>Hancock's convinced he can help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security

Out on the road, every moment filled with fighting and watching and looting, the fear couldn't take root in my busy life. I was preoccupied with finding and fulfilling basic needs such as food and shelter, shaving down what Hancock and I could afford to give to refugees and sorting our routines and rations later to adjust. If I were honest, this hit-and-run scavenger lifestyle suited me much better than stressing over being the perfect wife, the perfect mother, the perfect neighbor. Mistakes had harsher consequences out here, true, but I had the ultimate weapon at my side- the mayor of Goodneighbor, quick to share any and all his possessions with me, including his humour and affection.   
  
All in all, it was the most sane I'd been in my entire life.  
  
But even though my circumstances had changed (for the better, I admitted with almost no shame), I was still the same person I'd always been. As good a person as I strove to be, my past evils eventually caught up with me nearly six months after I'd left Vault 111. For weeks Hancock and I had been pushing hard on the road and we finally allowed ourselves some respite at Sanctuary. As odd as it sounds, it was always when I relaxed that it hit me; and this time, with such an incredible length of time between incidents, it hit me _hard_.  
  
The first tipoff was the restlessness; I found myself rechecking wiring for the fourth time before I noticed how twitchy I felt. Years of careful practise kept my face schooled as I realised what would soon be upon me, ending my chat with Preston on a pleasant note before I ducked between two buildings for a moment of privacy. Dusk would soon be past, bathing Sanctuary in semi-darkness as settlers switched off all but perimeter lighting, and it would be time to lay down and grab some sleep.  
  
My breathing increased rapidly, along with my heartrate, and I gripped my throat reflexively. The unnameable terror was banging at the door of my consciousness and would shatter my sanity soon and then-  
  
They couldn't see me like this. Not Preston, not the settlers that relied on me. Definitely not _Hancock_. I had little time to prepare.  
  
My luck held as I found Hancock stoned out of his mind, half-asleep already. A few hasty comments and excuses didn't seem to raise suspicion, and within moments I was marching down the road toward the Red Rocket Gas Station, which Hancock and I had spent the past two months fortifying for our own private use. It would be dark, close... _safe_ , hopefully. At that thought, I felt the first tears roll down my cheeks, and with a muffled sob I tugged my coat tight around me, stumbling in my haste.  
  
Once inside, knowing I was alone, my mental dams broke and I rushed for the makeshift bedroom with a terrified cry. The mattress was worn and cold but I barely noticed as I rolled into the sunken centre, curling into a ball with my face pressed to the threadbare sheets. My breaths hitched around sobs, lungs aching with each dragged inhale, limbs shaking with horror as I waited.   
  
 I was absolutely, positively certain I was about to die.  
  
Time lost meaning as I laid there, facedown, shivering, the mattress soaked with my tears and snot. Each breath was a struggle to intake, only to gratefully release in a heavy sob, over and over and over. Some small, lingering rational pointed out it was a good thing I wasn't hyperventilating this time, because passing out was _such_ a chore to recover from. It was not a comforting thought, because close on it's heels was the realisation that this would happen again.. and again.. just like before. I hadn't escaped my past by plunging into the future. Focusing on a new life and a new love hadn't erased this insurmountable dread. What if this happened when we were traveling? Before a carefully planned fight? Gods, what if it happened randomly during the night, what if I woke up Hancock to my whimpering? I didn't always get a half-hour warning like tonight.   
  
I curled in tighter, ignoring the cramps in my lower back, disgusted by the smear of wet sliding across my face and unable to even consider moving away from it. I would be here all night as it was, terrified out of my skull, unable to say why, unable to fight it, unable to ask for help. I knew from experience I would eventually fall asleep from exhaustion, so sore and depressed I could barely move when I next awoke. How would I explain that? Hell, I couldn't even explain what these attacks were; I only knew I was completely helpless in their grip, and that thought brought a fresh wave of sobs. That's what I was: helpless. Pathetic. Weak. The others didn't know, they couldn't see- couldn't be allowed to see- just how fragile I actually was under my false bravado. Something as simple as bedding down for the night randomly invoked the power to reduce me to a sobbing mess! Utterly _pathetic_ -  
  
"Hey hey, what's all this?"  
  
A new fear paralyzed me as Hancock's low voice sounded behind me; I furrowed deeper into the ratty blankets, vainly wishing they could hide me from notice. My body ached from trying to tuck in tighter, my chin digging into my knees as I tried to warn him away. All I could manage were louder sobs, my words unintelligible.  
  
There was some shuffling about the room; for a moment I dared to hope he'd left, but even in my distressed state I knew better. Light suddenly filtered through the holes in the blanket, then I felt the pillow jammed against my head removed and replaced by a blissfully dry one. Seconds later an extra blanket was wrapped tightly around me as the mattress dipped. I flinched as Hancock dragged me to his chest, spooning around me, his warm breath on the back of my neck.  
  
"S'okay now," he murmured, sighing gently by my ear. "You're safe, Rin. I'm here. It's just us."  
  
_Safe_. My stomach clenched as another round of crying stole my breath. "I w- want-," I stuttered, gritting my teeth, willing my chest to still long enough to talk, "-t- t- to be alone."  
  
Hancock hummed, hugging me tighter. "If ya can roll over an' look me in the eye and show me ya  _mean_ that, I'll leave, I promise."  
  
It took a full minute to force my muscles to comply, sixty seconds of mental and physical agony before I could twist in Hancock's arms and face him, my gaze flying everywhere to avoid his. "I- I-,"  
  
"Didn't think so. C'mere, it's okay." His easy smile was anything but mocking; my strange reserve broke and I flung myself forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and crying into his collar. His hands roamed my back, gently pulling at tense muscles and maneuvering me to relax against him. I didn't understand all his mutterings but the word _safe_ repeated often enough I wondered if that was the only word he kept whispering.   
  
Slowly I wound down to just sniffling, my throat raw beyond belief. Hancock tipped me up into a sitting position and offered a canister of fresh water. The first swallow abraded my throat, but the subsequent sips soothed the burn all the way down to my stomach. Finally I felt together enough to speak.  
  
"How did-," I croaked, glancing away as his eyes darted to mine, "How'd you know?"  
  
He huffed in amusement, patting my waist fondly. "Seen my fair share of panic attacks. Had my share, too."  
  
Panic attack. That was a term from my life before, a man in a white frock with a smile that didn't reach his eyes who tossed so many words at me in the short, impersonal visits. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Severe anxiety. Survivor guilt, long-term depression, sexual abuse, rape-  
  
My mind shut down as I fought the urge to vomit.  
  
"Enough of that," Hancock said teasingly as he took the water from me. "Too much sinus drip and water don't mix well. Had terrible allergies as a kid; I'd gulp down water in the middle of the night and wake my brother up, sick as a dog. Got no sympathy from him, the jerk."  
  
"How'd you know I was..." I trailed off, gesturing vaguely. "I th- thought you were about to pass out."  
  
"I did," he frowned, looking away as he huffed again. "Your friend woke me up- that former Vault-Tec guy? He said I needed to check up on you or he was gonna do it himself. We thought it probably best if I went, but still. Yeah."  
  
I matched his scowl. "Why?"  
  
"Said he read your psych profile all those years ago." His expression darkened, still refusing to look at me. "'Emotional and physical trauma'. He wouldn't give details, but he knew you shouldn't be alone. Saw you runnin' off looking like you were about to fall apart."  
  
I blinked, stunned into silence. I had a _psych profile?_ How the hell did he have access to that?! What was in it? Medical records, likely, but did that include all those different therapists I'd seen as well? I swallowed hard. "I want to know what the fuck he's got on me! I- I can't believe-,"  
  
"It doesn't matter now," Hancock interrupted smoothly, leaning in to rest his cheek on my shoulder. "Who cares what was on paper over two hundred years ago? Look, you know I can get a quick read on people, and your friend there was just worried about ya. That's it. He's not gunnin' for ya. I put a lotta pressure on him but he outright refused. If he wouldn't tell _me_ anythin', he's not gonna blab to anyone else."  
  
"He had no right-!" I fumed, but Hancock silenced me with a quick kiss pressed to my neck.  
  
"No," he growled, "and trust me, if I thought he was gonna use anything he knows, he wouldn't live to see sunrise."  
  
"Fucking Vault-Tec," I seethed, my hands curling into fists. "Keeping tabs on me?! Goddamnit, I knew I should've kept ignoring them."  
  
"No!" Hancock straightened, gripping my shoulders and looking oddly panicked. "No, don't say that. I get it, you should be mad, but without them.. You wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have you. None of us would. They spied on you, they lied, they did terrible shit to a lot of folks, but they gave me you." He smiled weakly. "S'gotta count for somethin', right?"  
  
My vision blurred with tears again, chest convulsing as I fought to not cry. I wriggled closer, placing myself in his lap as I wrapped around him. "Yeah, of course," I mumbled, pressing my forehead against his. "I wouldn't trade this- you- for anything, you know that, John?"  
  
I felt him loose a heavy sigh, squeezing me close. "I do now."  
  
We sat tangled together for some time, quiet except for our rapid breathing. That vague fear had retreated for now, but I could tell it was lurking, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Now that it'd had a taste, it would be ready to randomly pop up, just like it had before. "I'm sorry," I blurted, burrowing my face against his neck. "I don't know why I get like this. I- I mean, the doctors told me all these fancy names and such and my therapists drew some obviously straight lines, but-,"  
  
"It's okay, love."  
  
Nate had told me those exact words hundreds of times, cuddled in bed just like Hancock and I were, but with a start I realised I had never believed him. Nate had been kind, generous to a fault, but never made me feel so.. calm.  
  
I pulled back just far enough to press my lips to Hancock's, my breath hitching as he felt him warm and respond almost immediately. Within seconds I was gripping at his shoulders, desperate to be as close as physically possible. His hands dug into my sides, pulling me atop him as he laid back on the bed.  
  
"What's that for?" he grinned when we broke apart, reaching up to brush the uneven bangs from my eyes.   
  
"No one's ever-," my voice cracked, and I swallowed and tried again. "No one's ever made me feel like I can break down and- and not be scared of being scared." I wrinkled my nose. "That doesn't make sense."  
  
"Makes plenty of sense," Hancock shrugged, smiling up at me. "Anytime you're scared, I'm here. I'll always be here. You're safe."  
  
"I believe you," I murmured. "I can't believe I actually, uhm, trust you. That sounds horrible of me, but it's hard for me. Trusting people."  
  
Hancock barked a laugh, twisting under me so our bodies fit together more neatly. "Trust is big, too big to hand out sometimes. I'm honoured, Rin. Same goes for you, too, y'know." I could feel him grin against my cheek. "Always did like older women, heh."  
  
I shook my head, biting my lip as my momentary mirth faded. "Don't you want to know?"  
  
He arched a brow. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
My stomach flopped over, threatening to crawl up my throat, and I clamped my mouth shut as I shook my head. "I trust you, John, but I don't want to, not right now. Someday."  
  
"Someday is good enough for me. And hey, 'never' is fine too," he added with a stern look. "If you wanna talk, I wanna listen. But I don't need it to know who you are. Wouldn't change how I feel about ya."  
  
And there it was, as clear and bright as the bare lamp by the bed. It wasn't necessarily what Hancock did or said; it was his love behind the words and actions that, for the first time in my life, gave me the security to be vulnerable.

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, writing therapy for myself.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
